


Volunteer

by DagReaper (TyJaxReaper)



Series: Odd Pairings [21]
Category: Gotham (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark Stiles, Dark Theme, Jerome's a little Shit, Kissing, M/M, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Nudity, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, s02e01-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7824361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyJaxReaper/pseuds/DagReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Not as fun as I’d have liked, but he satisfied my hunger for the time being, I suppose,” he lightly shrugged, feeling the fingers continue to brush his toned chest, and even as they stared at each other, eye to eye. He was exploring without watching where he’d gone or was going.</p><p>“Is there any other way to quench that thirst of yours?” the redhead was smirking, but he’d felt that spark of uncertainty for a split second, the unsure-ness being caught and he licked his lips, showing the movement in the dim light and noticing the way the boys’ eyes darted down and then back up. “If there is, I’d like to-,”</p><p>“-Volunteer?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Volunteer

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written anything on this pairing at all since the first two and I'm glad that I was asked to write up another. I'm really tempted to get back into writing more on these guys. I forgot how fun it was to write the slightly darker side of things. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this dark-ish themed one-off :)

“Stiles,” he heard Theo, felt him, his fear, his inner conflict between entering the bloody room and staying in the threshold. He’d laugh if he weren’t busy, busy staring at his dead, carved and mutilated plaything. He tilted his head side to side, slow, intimidating, intentionally striking yet calm motion. The fox tended to strike fear, by the simplest of movements, like now, while Theo waited by the door and Tabatha shook behind him. She feared him the most out of the two, he scared her. And he loved it. The feeling he brought out, the chaos, strife, pain, fear. He drank in the scent.

“I’ve told you before, not to call me that,” he spoke quietly, roughly and calmly, tilting his head while he continued to stare at the brutally broken body, covered in its own blood and still warmly leaking. “Why do you instant on it,”

“It’s the name of the body you’re using. And it’s the easiest to pronounce without catching unwanted attention,” Theo pointed out somewhat calmly, his voice only a little off as he stepped a little further into the room. “Nogitsune and fox would seem odd to others,” he added and the spirit rolled his eyes, his head staying perfectly still.

“Fox is fine. If it catches unwanted eyes,” he paused, turning his head slowly to face his shoulder, eyes firmly looking at the sharp curve of his blood splattered hoodie, not even looking the few inches up to look at the man. “I’ll take care of it,” and as if on cue, his two, main Oni guards appeared on either side of him, both steady and unmoving. “I’m done feeding,” he added, looking back to the death he caused, the beautiful chaos and pure fear that he’d taken moments ago.

“They’re in the in rec room,” Galavan mentioned, as if it meant anything to him. He could probably have some fun for a few minutes, cause a little disturbance and annoyance in the makeshift team. He’d change first though, out of the blood and into a fresh look. The red only died his clothes, so there was no need to shower.

He didn’t say a word as he and the Oni disappeared in a gust of black, reappearing in his own room, the lights out and dimming his entire space. The window was closed with the dark curtains drawn, the door was closed, no light lit the room apart from the yellows of his minions eyes, staring at him for an order, or any movement that would seem as an unspoken request and/or gesture. But they made no movement, nothing, as the fox stripped himself bare of his hoodie, soaked with blood. He tossed it to the floor, his shirt being removed right after. He didn’t need the light to know that the red seeped through and dyed his shirt and chest. He could feel the drying wetness breaking over his warm skin.

He reached a hand up, running his blood covered fingers over the drying and cracking paint-like red. He could feel the thick liquid rolling over his skin as he made new trails, the dye following and leaving his digits.

The fox paused, feeling the space around him change for a moment, his senses catching the breathing and footsteps right outside of his room. He was being watched, followed, stalked maybe. Someone had found him.

Without having flinched, one of his guards appeared at the door, black smoke trailing and it then reached out and opened the thick, wood. The fox slowly turned his gaze to peer over his shoulder, his body staying firmly where it was, facing away from the one that fell into the room, landing on his knees.

Red, Jerome Valeska. The amusing and entertaining plaything, he remembered.

He was smiling, grinning at him as if he hadn’t just been caught by the old spirit. It amused him further as the human stood, carefully surveying the area before stepping further in, the Oni closing the door and bringing back the darkness, engulfing them in a dim lack of light. He continued to watch him through the still blackness and gradually returned to baring himself of clothing. He lifted a leg, bending to be able to reach the laces of his boots without crouching or falling. His balance was perfect.

“My hunch was right,” the fox let a smirk grace his lips before he kicked the boot off and then lifted his other leg, reaching for the laces and untying them as well.

“Hunch,” he repeated, no question or request for him to elaborate. He’d just repeated the simple word and then kicked his other boot off, reaching down again to remove his sock, and then the other. He was left with his trousers, his black, loosely fitted jeans.

His senses sharpened in the darkness as he heard the soft shoes, slippers, walking the length and wideness of the room. The criminal psychopath of a teenager was gauging his room, eyeing his space and examining the area. Even in the dark, and he was sure that the boy knew that the fox was aware that he couldn’t see a thing, a hand in front of his face, just barely.

“I thought that this corner of the place was yours,” a statement, and he could ‘hear’ the smile on the boy's lips, widening his mouth into a long curve on his face. The amusement was clearly there.

“How do you figure?” the fox unbelted his waist and released the button-fly, letting the hem of his jeans loosen around him and drop slightly, baring his hips. He lowered the tough fabric, along with his underwear, down the length of his legs, standing and taking a few steps to lose the jeans and boxers. He stood there, completely naked and strode over to the bed.

“I saw the dark hallway, all doom and gloom. I assumed it was your thing,” it was and would continue to be. He turned and sat on the too-soft mattress and blanket, lifting a leg and propping a foot up on the edge, hiding his groin from the other as he grew tired and let an unnoticed sigh slip his lips, ordering a guard to switch a lamp on. A smirk grew further onto his face as he saw the stun in the redheads posture and features, clearly surprised by his appearance.

“It is,” his smirk turned crooked. “Your hunch was right,” one of the Oni appeared beside the bed, dark, clean clothes in hand. he turned his gaze up at the motionless body and moved to stand, everything now on show, and he couldn’t have cared less. Though he did let a scoff slip when he felt the rare scent of lust gradually seep into the room. The silence amused him, and he glanced over at the easily readable expression. Clearly lust. “Cat got your tongue? Or would ‘ _fox got your tongue_ ’ be a tad more appropriate?” the question was rhetorical, and it seemed to bring his mind back from whatever pervy fantasy he may have cooked up in that psychopathic head of his.

“ _Fox got your tongue,_ seems about right,” the boy was definitely not ashamed or embarrassed of this. If anything, he seemed amused and just watched, eyeing him over like a slab of meat. He didn’t hide the lust that was obviously thrumming through his veins and lighting the room in his scent. It was a gradually enticing smell, he’d admit, though he’d very much like to catch the scent of strife leaving this person. Lust would do for the moment, though.

“I take it, you don’t mind that I’m standing here like this?” the fox even cocked his pelvis for show, arms loose at his sides with his hands reaching to relax on the sharp edges of his hips. He was completely bare and on show, there being just enough light for the human to make out his shape, paleness, sharp and curved outlines. He wasn’t too sure if he could see the dyed red smudging on his chest, the blood from the shirt and hoodie he’d worn before stripping.

“Not at all,” he was sure that reds’ voice had deepened just a tad there, from the lust and growing warmth of the atmosphere. The fox eyed the boy, once down and once up. He smoothly and slowly tilted his head, like before with the intentional intimidation and gradual striking motion. Though it was slow, it still threw others off and brought fear to the metaphorical table.

“Good,” he dropped his arms and stepped forward, and then another and another. A few feet and he was standing a few inches from the redhead, staring slightly up at the boy after noting the difference in height. It wasn’t that much of a difference between them, but the psychopath seemed to have a few inches on Stiles’ height.

“The _volunteer_?” the boy gestured to his chest, where the blood had dried, and reached a clean hand up, barely any hesitation in his movement as he gently ghosted his fingers over the cracking, red paint-like liquid. Though it wasn’t really liquid anymore. Anything but at that point. He’d felt a few areas flaking, breaking and falling as the pads of the digits ran over his chest, over the warm, smooth skin.

“Not as fun as I’d have liked, but he satisfied my hunger for the time being, I suppose,” he lightly shrugged, feeling the fingers continue to brush his toned chest, and even as they stared at each other, eye to eye. He was exploring without watching where he’d gone or was going.

“Is there any other way to quench that thirst of yours?” the redhead was smirking, but he’d felt that spark of uncertainty for a split second, the unsure-ness being caught and he licked his lips, showing the movement in the dim light and noticing the way the boys’ eyes darted down and then back up. “If there is, I’d like to-,”

“- _Volunteer_?” he gradually tilted his head and leaned in close to him, a hand reaching up to press softly to the pinkish robe the boy was wearing, his fingers just on the inside, touching the shirt he wore under it. “The last volunteer is currently rotting in his own blood, mutilated beyond recognition,” he leaned slightly to the side to hotly whisper his next words right into his ear. “What could you do to satisfy _me_? Jerome Valeska,” he seen and felt the shudder, hearing the fast intake of air as he gasped.

“Galavan said that you feed on chaos, darkness, fear. All the bad stuff. I could give you that,” the fox then scoffed, pulling back to rest his forehead against the humans’, smiling softly.

“No, you can’t. You’re a sociopath, you don’t care about what you do, no guilt, remorse, no feeling of pain after what you do. You feel the thrill of it, not the ache, the hurt or sorrow, not the anguish. Only the thrill,” the fox tilted his head just the slightly, ghosting his open mouth over the redheads and feeling the hot puffs of his breath against his own, heating the panting space between them. “You smile at the death, beam at hearing the cries of pain. You’d have probably loved to watch what I’d done to my victims. How I’d take everything and then torture them while they screamed for a quick death, begging me to kill them,” he ran a hand softly up the side of his face, his thumb running over his cheekbone. They pressed closer, the foxs’ naked body against the clothes covered one. “I know you’d love it… _I do_ ,”

“What _could_ I do?” he seemed to genuinely ask, their mouths still panting hotly and steaming while brushing closely, now both of his hands on the boy. He still had the one caressing his face and the other was now around his shoulders, with Valeskas’ lacing his bare waist and the other gripped the back of his neck, his hair threaded between his fingers.

“Feed me your lust,” he spoke lowly, his voice deepening and yet becoming quieter and softer, his hunger gradually growing as it slowly heated between them, the warmth spreading and wrapping around them like a hot blanket.

Not a second later and the boy leaned in, fast and precise. He knocked their heads lightly, and kissed him filthily, opened mouth and with inexperience. But it was purely lust. He could taste the strength and heated need. He was kissed, over and over, both panting and breathing harshly. He ignore the feeling of being lifted, the mildly surprising muscle on the lean boy managing to easily lift him. He’d wrapped his legs around his waist, ankles locking and he felt the stride, the boy was walking him to the bed and then he was gradually placed on his back, lying side length across it.

“ _That_ , I can do,” he then leaned in again, kissing him roughly and still with inexperience. He’d have to change that.

**Author's Note:**

> So? You enjoy? What'd you think of it? Please let me know. I haven't written about these two in ages and I'd like to know if I've lost my psycho-touch xD


End file.
